We get a bunch of magazines at the office for research purposes, you know like pop culture stuff. Today the GQ arrived with Viggo Mortenson on the cover looking all Aryan and chiseled. Down in the right hand corner is a banner headline that reads "Sex Toys that Hit the Spot". I want to read this article, but I can't find the table of contents.

I'm on page 20 and so far all I see are lots of ads featuring androgynous ladyboys hawking clothing by Prada, Armani, DKNY. For the most part these guys look gay. Even the really hot guy in the Guess ads surrounded by women who look like the same women who were in the Guess ads in 1992, though he's got some very masculine stubble going, his uni-brow has obviously been waxed.

David Bowie a.k.a. Dorian Gray and his wife Iman selling Hilfiger. On card stock so you can't slip past it even if you want to - which you don't. I can't stop staring at them. They're both so pretty and that bone structure - of course it helps that they're blown out by a tungsten light, but still. Way to go Ziggy Stardust.

So finally on page 33 the table of contents directs me to page 144 through more and more pages of slick ads and upon my arrival I have never been so disappointed in my life. These are not sex toys! There's a scary looking vibrator that looks like it was an extra in the movie Alien, a cockring that could probably be used to massage your cellulite in the shower and a scary violet donut thingy with a hole the size of #2 pencil for male masturbatory pleasure. Now I know that guys like things tight, but I have to wonder about a guy who could 1) get his dong through that tiny hole and 2) enjoy himself whacking off with that thing. It's weird looking and possibly presents health risks.

I have to wonder who reads GQ? I mean it looks like Vogue, Elle or InStyle - those vapid fashion magazines that women read and I don't really believe that straight guys want to read about Viggo or Billy Bob Thornton or 10 Ways to Wear a Polo Shirt. I definitely want to read about Viggo, and even Billy Bob (freaky can be fun) and I love reading anything David Sedaris writes - but I just can't see any of the guys I know reading this at home while copping a squat, or god forbid buying those horrible lime green Ralph Lauren trousers.